T'is the Season

The Worms Crawl In

Never laugh when a ghost goes by—
It may be your turn next to die.
They wrap you up in a big white sheet
And throw you down, six feet deep.
All goes well for a week or two,
Then things start happening; all is new.

Worms crawl in and worms crawl out,
And ants play ping-pong on your snout.
One worm that's not quite so shy
Crawls in one ear and out one eye,
Till your blood turns to a sickery green
And oozes out like Devonshire cream.


And on that note I'm off to start the invitations rolling for my little celebrations of all things creepy and crawly and haunted and spooky. So put on that extra eyeliner and you best morbid outlock and come on down.